The Greater Good
by Ann3
Summary: In this sequel to Twice Blessed, Carson and Laura's happiness is about to be shattered. As always, I hope you enjoy please R&R !
1. Hunter, Hunted

The Greater Good

By Ann3

Writer's Note: Hello again, peeps !! Yes, as promised (or threatened, depending on your point of view...) I've taken inspiration from Hypercaz (thanks, sweets...!) and written this sequel to Twice Blessed.

We left our favourite lovebirds as proud parents, without a care in the world - well, apart from who got to change _two_ lots of nappies...!

All that, though, is about to change. Hypercaz wanted to throw some threat or danger into the mix, and... oh yes, it's coming, _big_ time...! The question is - how far will Carson go to protect his family...?

So read on, find out - and, as always, I hope you enjoy ! Special thanks, too, for the wonderful Hypercaz, for giving my plot bunny something to nibble on, besides mouldy old carrots... :o)

Chapter One

Hunter, Hunted

"Oh, God, no... sweet God, no..."

Rarely in the three years that they'd been on Atlantis had a single, barely audible voice conveyed such heartfelt dread. And more rarely still had Carson Beckett's face turned so pale, in complete shock, as it did now – the pure horror in his eyes saying it all, expressing everything he couldn't bring himself to say out loud.

He'd even rubbed those eyes, in the silently desperate hope that what they were telling wasn't real. It was, though. However much he tried to deceive himself, the scanners in front of him weren't lying.

Wraith ships. A whole bloody fleet of them. And they were headed straight for Atlantis.

Through a sickening twist of irony, Carson now stood in front of that screen in a trance of silent horror. Seconds ago, he could hardly bear to look at it. Now, though, he couldn't seem to tear his eyes away.

An attack of that magnitude...? A fleet of that size...? Its likeliest source...? Its likeliest target...?

And a question which horrified Carson more than anything else, one that chilled him to his core. How the hell had they managed to stay undetected, even on Atlantis' deepest scanners, for so long...?

'_You_'_re_ _exactly what I need_... _now_, _let_'_s begin_...'

To the rising alarm of those around him, Carson now all but collapsed onto the desk-edge behind him. His face had lost all its colour, his eyes all their focus – and, it seemed, his body all its strength.

Not even John Sheppard's gentle hand on his shoulder could break the grip of a returning nightmare. And that nightmare, one that had nearly claimed both his mind and his life, went by one, single name.

Michael.

He must have whispered that name, reacted to its memory, since the grip on his shoulder tightened – John Sheppard's voice, the quiet firmness of its conviction, conveying the same rallying strength.

"We don't know that, Carson. But even if it _is_ him, even if he _is_ leading this attack, we'll stop him. I _promise_ you that, Carson, okay...? We've stopped him once, remember...? We can do it again..."

Stricken blue eyes finally met his, struggling to find hope, the ability to believe this heartfelt promise. But one crucial difference between the past and the present made it impossible for Carson to do so.

When Michael had wreaked that brutal revenge on him, down in the Wraith POW camp all those months ago, he'd been... _expendable_.

If he'd died then, well... well, yes, his loss would have devastated many lives, shattered many hearts. His mother's, the rest of his family. His surrogate family, here on Atlantis. And, of course, Laura's too

They would have mourned him, celebrated his life. Recovered and regrouped. Bravely moved on. But to possibly face that threat again, with not just those lives to consider now but his children's too...?

True, Megan and Jamie were only three months old still, both much too young to form any real memories of him, but –

'_Oh_, _cr_-...'

"Carson...? Hey, buddy, come on, it's gonna be alright, we're gonna stop them... it's gonna be okay..."

Coming to with a start, Carson blinked up towards that voice's source through strangely blurry eyes. From his left side, to dazedly puzzled surprise, a cup of water was pressed gently into his hand – another anxious voice to his right frettishly asking whether or not he 'needed something stronger...'

"No, Rodney, he doesn't... it's okay, he's coming out of it now... just give him some air..."

'_What the hell are ye on about_, _son_...? _Comin_' _out_ _o_' _what_...?'

Carson blinked once more, gingerly shaking his head to clear it as the panic attack relaxed its hold.

The hand on his shoulder had moved now, circling up and around his back in gently reviving sweeps. John Sheppard's voice continued to gently coax him back from... well, wherever the hell he'd been. And at Teyla's gentle prompting, more sips of water finally brought him back to still dazed reality.

Yet even as he returned to it, that reality was still almost too much for Carson Beckett to cope with. His re-woken nightmare was still there, relentlessly advancing on the main scanners beside him.

In just over five days, unless John Sheppard could stop them, the Wraith would wreak hell on Atlantis. And a day that had started so happily, to such joy and laughter, was now ending in complete despair – because Carson Beckett now had to make the most painful decision that he'd ever faced in his life.


	2. United We Stand

The Greater Good

By Ann3

Writer's Note: Aww, thanks so much for the first reviews ! And to reassure anonymous - don't worry, I am _not_ killing Carson off !! Believe me, as Hypercaz will testify, I am every bit as stunned and angered by this decision to write Paul out of the series as you are.

I could say so much more, but... well, let's just say that those responsible have been left in no doubt, _whatsoever_, as what I think of it.

Okay, rant over - and for all those who are wondering what that 'painful decision' entails for our favourite couple - well, read on.

Word of warning, though - hankie _and_ chocolate alert !! I know _I_ needed both while writing it !

Chapter Two

United We Stand

Not for the first time, and, he silently prayed, not the last, Carson stood transfixed by the open Gate. Even now, the wormhole's beauty, rippling and winking like a sunlit ocean, filled him with awe.

Yearning, too. God, now, more than ever, that yearning to return to his former life pulled at his heart. His chance to do so, that precious link back to Earth's relative safety, stood just feet away from him.

By God, how many times had he felt tempted to do just that, return to the home he missed so much...? And how easy would it be, to take up Elizabeth's gently suggested offer and ensure his own safety...?

However strong that temptation, though, or understandable its selfishness, Carson simply couldn't do it. Yes, his first priority had been his family – ensuring, as best he could, their safety and survival. But as he'd agreed, so tearfully, with Laura the night before, _his_ place was here, on Atlantis.

This was where he belonged. This was where his medical brilliance would be so sorely needed. And if fate _had_ decreed Michael's return into his life... well, this was where he had to be to meet it.

So the offer she'd planned to re-make to him went unsaid as Elizabeth came to stand at his side – the quiet determination on her CMO's face already telling her that he'd not changed his mind.

Then again, she proudly reflected, she wouldn't have expected anything else from Dr Carson Beckett

Instead she returned his smile, nodding her understanding while gently slipping her hand into his. Yes, she was his leader, expected to follow all the detached protocols which such a role demanded. But for the next few minutes, when he most needed its strength, her friendship was needed more.

In fact, she now proudly noted, the whole family were there now, closing supportively around him. John Sheppard, as always, had led that family in, taking his brotherly place at Carson's shoulder.

Playing his part in keeping things as normal as possible, Rodney was munching on a sandwich – Teyla and Ronon shaking their heads, in humouring amusement, as they came to Carson's other side.

And, as ever, that family's supportive arrival had come with perfect, if still quietly anxious, timing – because Laura and Kate Buchanan had appeared too now, each carrying a snugly blanketed bundle.

A moment that Carson had already quietly dreaded – met, now, with a helpless gasp of startled alarm.

"Laura...! But you're still in your BDUs, lass, an'... I – I mean, I thought we'd agreed that you'd..."

"Go to the SGC with them..." Laura finished for him, visibly struggling to keep her own emotions in check. "Yes, babe, I know I did, but... no, Carson... I'm a _Marine_... and I'm needed _here_, babe, as much as you..."

If he'd not been so utterly stunned, or drained, just all out terrified, Carson might have argued with her. Or he may have noticed the uneasy glances which were being traded, carefully discreetly, around him.

When it came to giving ground, Dr and Mrs Beckett could put the bloodiest minded of mules to shame. The last thing either needed right now was to let that mulishness escalate into recklessly hurtful anger.

So it was a massive relief for everyone in the Gate Room that Carson now nodded in weary acceptance. It was still telling, though, that his single word of concession could barely raise itself above a whisper.

"'kay..."

There was another reason, of course, for why he'd conceded so easily, with so little argument, but – well, no-one in that room, or anywhere else on Atlantis, wanted to tempt fate into letting it happen.

Instead, Laura mustered up as brave a smile as she could manage as she came to stand at his side – never more grateful, or proud, or relieved as she was right now, to see him smile faintly back at her.

This moment was heartbreaking enough already, for them both, without a furious row to cope with too. And while they'd promised to be strong for each other... dear God, how the hell could they...?

For the most selfless of reasons, they were sending their children, their precious babies, away. Neither of them knew when they'd see them again... if they'd even be alive, survive this attack, to –

"Carson...? Laura...? It's – It's time..."

Kate had spoken as gently as she could, but those words still broke two already silently terrified hearts.

Tears that had been threatening all morning ran freely now, unstoppably, down two stricken faces. As they held and kissed each tiny bundle in turn, it took all the strength they had to give them back.

A final embrace, one last kiss through helpless tears. Then, with Kate's merciful help, it was over.

Safe in their guardians' arms, Megan and Jamie Beckett were carried through from one fortress into another – both blissfully unaware of the distraught tears, the scenes of utter heartbreak, which they'd left behind.


	3. Fox In The Henhouse

The Greater Good

By Ann3

Writer's Note: Awww, yes, a bit of a tearjerker, wasn't it, that last chapter...? And you want a bit of 'Beckett-bending' too now, I see. Okay, then, you sadistic bunch, just in time for the weekend - it's whumpage time ...!

Chapter Three

Fox In The Henhouse

They'd prayed for a miracle. John Sheppard's tight, bitter voice told them they weren't going to get it.

"Damn...! Atlantis, there's too many of 'em... I hate to say it, Elizabeth, but we – we just can't hold them..."

"Understood, John... do your best, we'll give you all the help we can..."

Breaking the connection, Elizabeth closed her eyes, allowing herself a brief, nerve-steadying breath. For John Sheppard to sound as rattled as this... well, bad didn't come remotely close to covering it.

She'd expected it, of course, but... by God, for the last three hours, Atlantis had been ripped apart.

She was shaking again now, as yet another volley of explosions and weapons fire raked her defences. And how truly ironic it was, that her city's survival now rested on this brutal attack's terrified target.

There was no time to reflect on that irony, though, as Elizabeth wearily re-activated her headset – grateful, astonished, but most of all proud as a familiar, softly determined brogue came through its ear-piece.

"I – I heard, Elizabeth... an' whatever happens, lass, I'll – I'll do right by ye..."

"I know you will, Carson..." Elizabeth replied just as softly, allowing herself just a trace of a smile – letting her mind create the reassuring picture of her CMO in the weaposns control chair, safely guarded and ready to fight.

Seconds later, that mental comfort became preciously real as Atlantis' defences thundered to life. Above the noise and crashing chaos around her, Elizabeth even heard a whoop of delighted relief – letting her own betray itself, in heartfelt pride, as yet another salvo roared from her city's heart.

"Yes, Carson...! _Yes_...! Keep going, Carson, you can do this... I know you can do this..."

Even if those words _had_ come through his headset, Carson was in no fit state to appreciate them. Now completely under the Ancient chair's control, his eyes were screwed shut against its power. His head was already reeling from the agonising demands of his efforts.

There was something else, though, in his mind now. Something that made Carson's throat tighten in helpless terror, his blood turn to ice. A presence. A whispering, chillingly menacing voice tugging at his consciousness – ruthlessly demanding that he obey it.

'_Stop resisting us_, _Dr Beckett_... _stop resisting me_... _your weapons cannot stop us_... _stop firing them_...'

Already in agony from its connection to the chair, Carson's mind reeled from this brutal intrusion – a strangled sob escaping him as its defences finally buckled, allowing that intruder to gloat at its weakness.

'_Yes_, _doctor_, _you will submit_... _you really should know better, doctor, than to try and defy me_... _I_ _can_,_ and will_,_ make you suffer for your defiance_..._ you cannot stop me, you have neither the strength nor the courage_..._ your mind is mine now_, _doctor_, and you _will_ _submit_...!'

Pain, then - a raw, unrelenting agony that was every bit as brutal, every bit as excruciating, as it had been before.

A few seconds of lulling respite, then back it came again - so deep, so penetrating, so unbearably intense, that Carson screamed then, his body jerking in protest as his resistance was ripped brutally away from him.

The chair's soft, almost comforting humming beneath him sputtered, faltered, then stilled. A terrifying, unmistakeable whine took its place. Deep in a now brutally controlled mind, that voice taunted him once more, revelling in its victory.

'_Yes_, _Dr Beckett_... _yes_, _I_'_m_ _coming for you_... _I_'_m coming now_... _and as for your pathetic protection_... _well_...'

Raw energy sizzled the air around him. A yelling, falling body hit the floor. Then another. Another. Three more.

Then silence. Pure terror. His guardians were gone. He was completely unprotected.

Crying out in futile protest, Carson then felt that intruder in his mind wrench his eyes open again – forcing them to meet a living nightmare of reptilian green slits and a callously triumphant smile.

Briefly studying what remained of his protectors, those eyes then zeroed back onto their target – relentless in their hold, brutally clear in their intent, even as that gloating smile gleefully widened.

Every fibre of Carson's being was screaming at him, now, to escape this deadly threat against him.

'_Move_...! _For God_'_s_ _sake_, _move_...! _Get away from him_... _for God_'_s_ _sake_, _get away_...!'

He just couldn't do it, though. Even as he sobbed in helpless protest, Carson simply could not move.

His consciousness, his will to resist, his very soul itself, was being pulled ruthless away from him – soaked up into the unwavering eyes of an enemy who, yet again, held his life completely at its mercy.

By the time his captor reached him, he lay still and silent, his eyes still open but now totally blank – showing no reaction, not even blinking, as inhuman fingers slowly unzipped the front of his shirt. Its edges were then roughly torn the rest of the way open, exposing the bare, heaving chest beneath.

Taloned fingers lazily explored him. Stroked his shoulders. Caressed his chest. Pressed down, ever more agonisingly, onto his stomach.

Those fingers probed, pushed, fondled. Yet still Carson Beckett couldn't move a muscle to stop it, offer any form of resistance to this deliberately debasing violation of his body. All he could do was stare helplessly upwards, into eyes that now gleamed with the feral horror to come

"Well, Dr Beckett..." Michael said at last, savouring every moment of this truly delicious control – his smile widening in triumph as his fingers re-took Carson's temples into a vice-tight, inescapable grip.

"Here we are again, doctor... and, just as before, you're _exactly_ what I need..."


	4. From Hope Into Hell

The Greater Good

By Ann3

Writer's Note: Ah yes, that last chapter was a bit of a shocker...! And if you thought things looked grim _then_, wait till chapter five !!! ;o)Before then, though... well, Elizabeth's worst fears are about to come true... ulp...!!

Chapter Four

From Hope Into Hell

There was still so much noise and chaos going on around her that Elizabeth Weir couldn't quite place it at first – a niggling sense of wrongness, a mounting realisation that something... _something_... wasn't quite right.

Yes, her city was still being rocked to its foundations, just as it had been for the last several hours – just as it had done those precious few minutes ago, when Carson had managed to launch their drones, and... damn it, she now realised in quiet dismay, _that_ was the difference which had been niggling at her.

The drones. They'd stopped firing. And that could only mean one thing. Carson Beckett was in trouble

Elizabeth felt little cause to panic just yet, though. After all, he had six fully armed Marines to protect him. And she knew launching those drones would be taking a heavy toll on both his physical and mental strength

Yet a selfish, terrified part of her still silently urged him to re-find that strength, just a bit quicker – hating that selfishness, her ingratitude, as another volley of explosions shook the floor below her feet.

'_Come on_, _Carson_, _you have to keep those drones in the air_... _if we_'_re_ _to stand any chance at all_, _to_...'

"Dr Weir...!"

Radek Zelenka's urgent yell broke into her thoughts – and quietly turned Elizabeth's blood to ice.

"The scanners, Dr Weir, they are detecting them now... Wraith... they are here, in – in Atlantis...!"

Acknowledging him with as much composure as she could manage, Elizabeth thumbed her radio – quietly praying that her voice sounded calmer to those around her than it felt, and sounded, to her.

"Carson...? It's Elizabeth... Carson...? Are you alright...? Carson...? Major Lane, can you hear me...?"

Silence. Total silence – one which made her close her eyes against a helpless, devastating realisation.

A lack of response from her CMO was one thing – such silence from his protectors quite another. And if the Wraith _were_ in the city, mounting their main objective, then the first person they'd target –

'_Oh_, _God_...'

As if subconsciously bidden, a response _did_ come now – shattering both her heart and her hopes.

"Dr Weir... how charming to hear your voice again, doctor... I trust you're well...?"

If she'd not faced an almighty fight to keep her voice level before... by God, she was facing one now – the single word of her reply kept carefully casual, even as Elizabeth felt pure despair claw at her heart.

"Michael..."

"The very same... and your recognition flatters me, doctor... yes, it is so _very_ good to be here again... and I would imagine you're hoping to reach Dr Beckett, but... well, he's a little tied up right now..."

For sickening effect, Michael paused then – his next words as heartless as they were horrifying

"I must give him credit, though, Dr Weir, he is... well, putting up a _most_ commendable fight..."

Another smugly gloating pause – filled, this time, by a piercing scream of terrified, helpless agony. Another. Then silence.

Fighting now to keep her emotions in check, Elizabeth signalled furiously for Zelenka to join her – roughly snatching his laptop from him, such was her desperation to tap out a silent, frantic message.

'_Raise Colonel Sheppard and Ronon_... _now_...!!'

The equal speed with which Zelenka responded was a precious comfort. And, God knew, she needed it. Even as silence returned to her headset, Elizabeth could still hear those screams rip through her mind.

What Carson was going through, what his captor was doing to him... God, it didn't bear thinking about

It took all the control she had not to give this sick bastard any more satisfaction than he had already. Her next words – tight, terse and to the point – refused to rise to Michael's sickeningly enforced bait.

"What do you want, Michael...?"

She'd prayed she'd succeeded in staying strong. Sneering flattery gloated at how close she'd come.

"Ah, spoken like a true leader... straight down to business, so determined not to yield to me..."

Yet again, silence. It stretched uninterrupted this time, from one terrifying second to the next.

Even when Michael finally spoke into it, his words brought no comfort to those who heard them – only further horror, the brutal certainty, that a much loved friend's suffering was only just beginning.

"I'm touched by your concern, Dr Weir, but please don't worry... I already have _everything_ I need..."


	5. The Darkest Hour

The Greater Good

By Ann3

Writer's Note: Okay, kids, as promised in my note from the last chapter, those shocks and surprises just keep on coming...!!

Chapter Five

The Darkest Hour

She'd spent the last six years defending her country and... well, yes, she'd often had to kill for it too. But nothing within those six years in the Marines had prepared Laura Cadman for what she saw now. The already brutal horrors of combat had just taken on a whole new, terrifyingly personal twist.

Six colleagues, six friends, were no more now than bloodied, skeletal husks, lying lifeless on the floor. That was horrific enough. But the discovery beyond, its realisation, hit Laura now with brutal force.

The Ancient chair, where Carson had launched that frantic attempt to stave off the Hive ships' attack – cold and empty now, its backrest wetly tainted by the aftermath of another, equally desperate battle.

Carson's blood. Her precious husband's blood, and... dear Christ, there was so much of it. _Too_ much. The more Laura's horrified eyes pored over it, the more she found. Dear God, it was everywhere.

All those years of military training counted for nothing now. Laura could feel her legs start to buckle. If not for the discreetly strong arm that now looped her waist, they may have given way completely – determined green eyes meeting and holding hers, offering as much in comfort as they did in strength.

"We haven't lost him yet, Laura..." John Sheppard said at last, fighting to keep his own horror at bay. "If it means tearing this whole damn city apart, we'll find him, I _promise_ you. We _will_ get him back..."

If it had been anyone other than her CO saying those words, she'd have struggled to believe them.

Coming from John Sheppard, though, and when his eyes blazed with such determination as this – well, there was enough hope, just the slightest chink, for Laura to find the strength to nod back at him.

There was so much she wanted, _needed_, to say in return. Fate had decreed she wouldn't get the chance

"Colonel Sheppard, this is Weir... you're – you're needed in the Gate Room..."

Her voice had been as calm as ever. But there was no hiding the fear, the unspoken terror, beyond. And while not one to scare easily... dear God, John Sheppard felt _real_ alarm start to rise in him now.

He'd left Ronon there, _and_ Teyla, to guard Elizabeth, McKay, Zelenka and the rest of the Gate Room. And if _they_'_d _been compromised, if the Wraith had somehow managed to find their way past Ronon – well, two other, highly trained minds both knew what such an unthinkable scenario meant for Atlantis.

A surrogate brother, a cherished husband, was already in enemy hands. So too, now, was their city.

Minutes earlier, he'd led his team into the Chair room in painstaking, barely containable caution. John Sheppard now led them out of it, Laura Cadman right there at his heels, at an all out run.

All sorts of scenarios flashed through their minds, for how brutally the Gate Room had fallen, both of them silently bracing themselves for a repeat run of the bloodied horrors they'd just left behind

Nothing, though, however unthinkable – _nothing_ – could have prepared them for inconceivable reality.

Clustered together, Elizabeth, McKay and Zelenka knelt with the rest of their beaten protectors – a guard of grinning Wraith ensuring that no-one, not even Ronon or Teyla, did anything to defy them.

Michael was there too, of course – meeting incredulous, horrified faces with a smugly sneering grin. It was the shuffling movement at his side, though, which now left Laura Cadman close to collapse.

Even John Sheppard visibly reeled, his eyes widening, in pure horror, at the obscenity before him.

Carson. Or, more horrifically accurately, a brutalised husk of the Carson Beckett he knew so well.

It wasn't the ripped shirt, or the shock-stick burns across his stomach, or the deeply bloodied chest, which caused the bile to rise in his throat. Nor was it his realisation of why the Gate Room had fallen so easily, so cruelly, into Michael's hands.

How overjoyed the others must have been, he bitterly reflected, to see Carson seemingly free of his captors. And how surreally horrific it must have been, to then see how brutally he'd been forced to betray them

No, it was the emotionless eyes of a friend who, in every possible sense, was now totally lost to him. Eyes that were normally so bright, so full of laughter and mischief and life, were now totally blank.

From brainwashing, torture, pure terror, most likely all three, Carson Beckett's mind was no longer his own. Not even Laura's presence, the open horror on her face, provoked any kind of reaction, or recognition.

Even when he _did_ finally respond, the sheer perverseness of it only served to further her despair.

Completely enslaved to his captor's demands, Carson's hand jerkily shifted to the belt at his waist – the same slow, deliberate movements removing a P90 from its clip, homing it in onto its new targets.

And the first of those targets...? Two wide, helpless, utterly terrified brown eyes.


	6. Point Of No Return

The Greater Good

By Ann3

Writer's Note: Since the story is now finished, and with a certain event called Christmas coming up, I've decided to post the remaining four chapters in one go. I don't know about the rest of you, but I won't have time for anything next week except shopping for pressies !!

So settle back with your favourite comfort cushion, chocolates and hankies, 'cos... oh yes, it's going to be quite a ride !!

Chapter Six

Point Of No Return

He would be teasing her now, laughingly reminding her to '_breathe_, _love_, _before ye bloody faint_...' Instead, with eyes void of all expression, all emotion, he held her life in a P90's deadly sure sights.

Completely enslaved to his grinning captor, her precious Carson was now totally lost to her – the brutality with which he'd been forced under Michael's control now causing Laura to lose hers.

"Carson, _no_...! Damn it, you bastard, I'll send you burning to hell for this...!!"

As one deathly gaunt face remained totally impassive, so another lifted into a cruelly mocking sneer.

"Ah, you must be Laura... the brave and so _very_ charming Mrs Beckett..." Michael said at last – pausing for effect, before letting his next smirking words break both Laura's defiance and her heart.

"Oh yes, your equally brave husband here has told me _all_ about you... _and_ your quite _lovely_ family... so how are Megan and Jamie...? Nice and safe, I trust...? Well, for now, at least..."

Whatever Laura had planned to say in response crumbled as the impact of those words hit home.

Not content with torturing him, Michael had broken Carson's resistance in the cruellest way possible – the desperate fight which Carson had put up against him still there, for them all to horrifically see.

He'd not been fed upon, which was about the only crumb of comfort which Laura could allow herself.

The deep gashes across his chest, though, the blood he'd lost, the agony he must have gone through – dear God, sending the bastard who'd inflicted such suffering upon him to hell was too damn easy.

And all the time he held Carson under such brutal control, control that not even _she_ could break – God, it was going to take a miracle, a depth of strength she just didn't have right now, to get him back

Or one quietly furious CO. A commanding officer who had quite a few scores of his own to settle.

"Hey, hang in there, Lieutenant..." John Sheppard whispered, giving her hand the subtlest of squeezes. "If anyone can break him out of this, Laura, it's you... but you've _got_ to keep the strength to do it..."

Easier said than done, of course, but eventually Laura managed the slightest of nods in response.

Quite how she'd manage to break that control still defeated her, but if John Sheppard had faith in her – well, whatever it took, however much it cost, she _would_ find a way to bring her precious Carson back.

No sooner had she found that precious hope, though, than it was, yet again, cruelly snatched away – the intent of Michael's next words as sickening, as unthinkable, as the undermeaning beyond them.

"You've impressed me so much, in fact, that... yes, I'd like to get to know you better... _much_ better..."

Staring back at him, in silent horror, Laura didn't know what outraged or sickened her more – the 'closeness' which Michael had in mind, or the cruel irony of who he'd sent to deliver her to him.

The husband who'd defend her, protect her, fight all and every threat against her, to his dying breath – totally powerless, now, to stop himself from taking her into an outrage too sickening to contemplate.

From horror, rage, and now complete despair, Laura tried, yet again, to find a way through to him – not even trying to keep the tears, or the pleading, out of her voice, as she begged him to recognise her

"Carson...? Baby, please, listen to me... you've – you've got to start fighting this thing, you hear me...? I know it's gonna hurt you, baby, but you can do it... you've done it before, Carson, remember...? You can do it again, baby, I _know_ you can, and... _damn_ it, Carson...! You can't let him do this...! Whatever kind of number this bastard's done on you, Carson, for God's sake, baby, you've _got_ to fight it...! Snap out of it, Carson, you hear me...? For my sake, for Meg's and Jamie's, you've _got_ to beat this...! I'm _not_ gonna lose you to some hybrid freak, you hear me, and... _damn_ it, _Carson_...! Snap _out_ of it...!"

She'd yelled that last part, vented all her anger and fear and frustration, into that cruelly immobile face. And while the pained wince which now creased Carson's eyes in response silently broke her heart – by God, it lifted it too, in sheer joy and relief, as a hint of precious recognition dazedly took its place.

Barely perceptibly, the P90 before her wavered, finally clattering to the floor from paralyzed fingers. He was even trying to reply to her now, a cruelly bloodied mouth struggling to try and form her name.

"L – La'ra...?"

He blinked then, staggering slightly, as Laura screamed his name once more, in sheer relief this time, throwing her arms around him in total, unstoppable joy.

It was nothing short of a miracle – this precious breakthrough, John Sheppard's whoop of delighted relief, cut cruelly and brutally short.

A blast of energy. A startled gasp of pain. A briefly convulsing body, collapsing then onto the floor. And in the stunned silence which followed, a single voice, rising into an anguished scream of agony.

"_Noooooooooo_...!"


	7. Til Death Do Us Part

The Greater Good

By Ann3

Writer's Note: Oooh, bit of a cliffie in that last chapter, wasn't it ? So who got shot...? Who screamed...? Who's alive...? Who's dead...?There's only one way to find out, folks...! Read on...!!

Chapter Seven

Til Death Do Us Part

Silence. Complete, total, and utter silence. Then, with startling suddenness, all hell itself let loose.

Roaring in fury, like the caveman he was often covertly compared to, Ronon Dex set that hell into motion. He'd just seen a moment of joy, a breakthrough of so very precious hope, shattered by brutal violence. His reaction came as instantly, as naturally, and as instinctively to an enemy of the Wraith as breathing

Five startled guards against one thoroughly enraged Satedan. It was, very much, a one sided contest.

As the dust settled, so a rush of not entirely needed support came from the unlikeliest of sources – his own anger, fear and outrage propelling Rodney McKay forward in a madcap flail of arms and legs

With John Sheppard's P90 to contend with now too, the rest of his team instantly joining in, taking Atlantis back safely under their control, everyone else took cover as best they could – none of them daring, for fear of what they'd find there, to raise their heads to the stairway behind them

Two figures lay sprawled at its centre – one in tri-colour fatigues, the other in plain khaki and black. Neither of them was moving. At all. Neither of them was showing, in any way, the slightest signs of life.

Finally, though, one of those figures stirred, staring in mute horror at the discovery within its arms. Somehow raising itself to its knees, that figure then slumped forward once more, its shoulders visibly shaking. Still, though, it made no sound.

The body it had cradled so fiercely, so protectively, was then laid, surreally gently, back on the floor. Precious life still pulsed through it. The face beneath still helplessly shaking fingers was still warm. _Alive_.

She wasn't dead. She'd simply taken an especially heavy stun. His precious Laura _would_ be alright.

That didn't matter, though. It _would _matter, of course, in the days, and months, and years to come. But not now. No. Not now.

From everything he'd been through, Carson Beckett's legendary self control now silently snapped – the enslaved helplessness of before now replaced, to John Sheppard's startled alarm, by stone cold, deadly fury.

That fury had no focus. And that, as he'd learned himself, from bitter experience, made it dangerous. It was beyond all reasoning, beyond all and any rational attempt to avert its many repercussions.

Even as he tried to do so, John Sheppard wasn't sure if he had the right, or the real heart, to intervene.

"Carson, this isn't... look, I – I know what you're going through, what you're feeling right now, but..."

Eyes that had always been so calm, so full of gentle compassion, now turned, tellingly slowly, towards him – darkened from softest blue to glittering cobalt, by a depth of hatred that John Sheppard had rarely seen. In all his years in the military, John had never seen such a depth of raw, pure hatred as this

It was so intense, in fact, that John actually swallowed, _hard_, taking an instinctive step backwards – making no attempt to stop him, quickly signalling for the equally shellshocked others to do the same, as Carson barrelled past him.

Besides, that blind anger had found its focus now. And for that, John Sheppard was quietly grateful. God knew, the target for that anger, all that grief and pain and fury... hell, yes, he had it coming.

Consumed by anger, all the horrors he'd suffered at his hands, Carson had that target in his sights now. Re-finding strength, though God knew where from, he was striding, almost running, towards it now – oblivious to everything around him, even the anxious friends who now melted, with wise speed, out of his path.

And where increasingly pained eyes may have strayed, a rock steady Beretta was _not_ going to miss.

Even in defeat, though, Michael still had a reckless arrogance to him that bordered on total insanity.

"Why, Dr Beckett, you disappoint me. You've taken an oath, have you not, to save and protect life...? And now here you are, holding a gun on me... why, doctor, shame on you... whatever happened to your oh so sacred oath...?"

Carson stared mutely back at him. Five seconds passed. Ten. Fifteen. And _still_ Carson said nothing.

In that terrifying silence, it looked, for all the world, as if he'd again fallen under his captor's control. So it was to combined relief, and rising concern that, with quite astonishing calm, he finally responded

"Yes, I'm a doctor. I _did_ take an oath, jus' like ye say, to save and preserve life, never to take another. But I've taken _another_ oath since then, to protect my wife and my family... an' _that_'_s_ the oath, the _only_ oath, I live by now..."

_Now_ the smirk faltered. _Now_ Michael recognised the seriousness, the deadly hatred, in Carson's eyes – his last memory, his final living act, the raising of his hand, in a last ditch attempt to re-take control.

That hand barely made it past his thigh, before Michael felt his chest explode in fiery, bloody agony.

Taken out by a single, deadly sure shot through his heart, he was dead long before he hit the floor – dead, in every sense of the word, to the perverse twist of irony which now befell his executioner.

Still standing, impassively motionless, over Michael's body, Carson's legs now buckled beneath him – _his_ crashing descent stopped only by the speed, fuelled further by panic, of John Sheppard's reflexes.

Instinctively searching for a pulse, John then met five anxious faces with rare, real fear in his own - holding his friend protectively closer while Elizabeth practically screamed a medical team into the Gate Room.

Carson Beckett was finally safe. Blessedly free. But what had that precious freedom cost him..?


	8. Alternative Therapy

The Greater Good

By Ann3

Writer's Note: As you know, I set the question at the start of this story - what lengths Carson would go to in order to protect his family. Well, now we know - by killing Michael, he's gone against everything he's ever believed in. So what will the repercussions be...?

Chapter Eight

Alternative Therapy

He was alive. Safe. The nightmare which, for a second time, had nearly taken him from her, was over. _Truly_ over this time.

Michael was dead. He would never wreak his brutal vengeance on them again. Yet even from whatever depths of hell he now festered in, his death was still taking one hell of a toll

Its aftermath, the repercussions of what he'd done, the toll it would take on Carson's conscience – well, Laura bitterly reflected, in that respect, one private hell had simply been substituted for another.

But the hand which was holding onto hers, as if it was the last lifebelt on the Titanic, was warm. The body which lay, however bloodied and broken, in her arms, was solid. Real. Warm. _Alive_.

And after the horrors that he'd just suffered, for Carson to have actually come through it, _and_ lived – well, Laura was gladly welcoming that miracle alone, relishing this simple luxury of just holding him.

Now all she had to do was find a way through a broken, brutalised body, to the shattered soul beyond. Okay, Laura now tiredly reflected, she'd done it once. She could do it again. She _would_ reach him.

The alternative, what would happen to him if she couldn't... no... God, she didn't dare think about that.

Pushing that unthinkable 'if...' from her mind, she then gave Carson's hand another gentle squeeze – dredging up what she hoped was a believable smile as she pressed a dampened cloth over his forehead.

"There, babe... is that helping...?" she asked softly, wishing she could do more to ease his pain. Even now, twenty hours on, still under a mantle of healing sedation, he was _still_ shaking. Still going through untold hell.

So to see him trying now, so bravely, to smile back at her, it was all she could do not to cry with relief. And it didn't matter how faint his voice was, or how alarmingly his words slurred into each other. He was talking, fighting his way back from the brink. And that was still one hell of a breakthrough.

"'ye, l've... aye... an' – an' ye m'ke a won'erful n'rse..."

"Hey, that's down to you, babe... I learned it all from the _best_ doctor around..." Laura reminded him – wincing, in silent dismay, as she realised why that precious smile had suddenly, perversely, vanished into a look of pure horror.

In praising him so loyally, all she'd done was remind him of what he was.

A doctor. A _medical_ doctor. A doctor who, against all his training, all he'd ever lived by, had deliberately taken the life of another.

"I – I jus' can' believe I killed him, love..." Carson said at last, his voice barely above a whisper – this sudden change in mood, the anguish in his eyes, showing, all too clearly, the ongoing turmoil of his mind.

"I – I _killed_ him, Laura...! I – I jus' stood there, an' shot him, an'... I – I killed him...! I _killed_ him...!"

He was shaking even more now, his body trying to draw on a strength that it didn't remotely have.

After her own horrific ordeal, a still emotionally fragile Laura wasn't strong enough to face it either – a roller-coaster of fear, anger, relief, bitterness, topped by sheer frustration, sneaking out before an exhausted mind could stop it.

"And what if you _hadn_'_t _killed him...? What would have happened if he'd gone on to take the city...? What would he have done to you, baby...? Done to _me_, done to _us_, if he'd been _allowed_ to live...?"

_That_ got his attention.

Carson was staring up at her now, stunned, hurt and mortified in equal measure. And Laura honestly doubted whether those huge, horrified blue eyes could possibly grow any wider. Within the tears beyond them, though, she'd also seen the first hint of a precious, vital breakthrough.

She'd be taking one hell of a risk with taking it, of course, and the thought of it silently appalled her. But if it meant reaching him, if it managed to break this potentially disastrous grip on his conscience – well, however much it hurt him, however much it hurt her too, Laura knew she _had_ to take that risk.

"He'd have been taken me too, Carson..." she said at last, her voice softer but still fraught with fear – using that fear, the disgust within her next words, their horrific implications, to drive her point home.

"He'd have made use of me too, baby, in ways that... well, that you just don't want to know about... he said he wanted to get to know me better, Carson, remember...? He wanted to get to know me _real_ well..."

He was crying now, shaking his head in silent, almost frantic pleading for her not to say any more. Yet Laura ignored that pleading. Silently hating herself more with every word, she kept going, kept chipping away at the gentlest, sweetest heart she'd ever known.

"And what about the kids...? What about Megs and Jamie...? What would he have done to _them_...? Have you thought about that...? Knowing what he did to you, Carson... what he inteneded to do to _me_, can you imagine what he would have done to _them_...?"

Those last words, the hours of agony he'd suffered at Michael's hands, the horrors of his own imagination, had broken Carson's heart – which, at least, allowed all the pain, all the anger, all the self destructive guilt within it, to escape.

Holding him as tightly as she dared, as he fell completely apart against her, Laura closed her eyes – knowing, through her own helpless tears, that her precious Carson had just turned a truly vital corner.

Now, at last, his shattered soul could start to heal. Now, at last, they could _both_ start to heal.


	9. Wish Upon A Star

The Greater Good

By Ann3

Writer's Note: Well, folks, here we are - the end of another story. As always, I hope you've enjoyed it - and thanks to everyone who have taken the time to review, comment, suggest and encourage, it's been much appreciated !

Special thanks, too, for my wonderful Muse, Hypercaz, for the inspiration - keep that harp handy, girl !!! You're an absolute natural !!

So I'll leave you now with the final chapter - and happy holidays !!

Chapter Nine

Wish Upon A Star

He'd slept right through the night this time. No bad dreams. No frantic muttering, no sitting bolt upright from the terrors of his mind.

Then again, Laura mused, still watching him, still gently stroking back his hair, she had managed it too. For the first time that week, she had turned the same, vital corner.

It was such a simple thing, one which they'd both taken for granted. A full, undisturbed night's sleep. Now it was a mutually cherished achievement – broken, now, by the most equally precious of ways.

One wailing baby. Then _two_ wailing babies. The most effective parental alarm clock ever invented.

Blinking abruptly awake, one pair of sleepy blue eyes met equally rueful brown, rolling in realisation. Chivalrous to the last, Carson then smiled, kissing Laura's forehead before tossing back his covers.

"I'll go, love... no point us both catchin' a chill..." he grinned, tucking her just as gallantly back again.

Oddly reluctant to disagree with him, Laura settled instead for a nod of gratefully relieved agreement – grateful, in so many ways, as she watched Carson slip into his robe before padding into the nursery.

One month on, and the physical scars of Michael's brutally inflicted control over him had more or less gone now. He still had his quiet moments, of course, _still_ kept apologising for what he'd put her through, but – yes, Laura reflected, closing her eyes in peaceful contentment, he _would_ be alright. She'd see to that.

Within minutes, her eyes opened again – exasperated, but mostly amused, by the sight which met them. One adorably dishevelled, decidedly flustered husband, Megs snugly silent over one shoulder, Jamie still heartily bawling against the other

That was priceless enough. Carson's stammering apology reduced her into helpless fits of laughter.

"Sorry, love, but... um... well, I – I think Jai needs somethin' his... um... well, his... um... his da' cannae... um... well, _do_..."

Still laughing, Laura sat up and, casting Carson a playfully teasing glare, gently took Jamie from him.

"Jeez, talk about loving your food... now I wonder whose side of the family he's taken _that_ from...?"

"I'm sure I have no idea..." came the inevitable comeback – though he, too, was grinning as he said it.

As one fractious baby magically quietened, so Carson's thoughts turned to his other precious bundle – the wistful pride on his face so familiar, now, that Laura was smiling back, nodding her understanding, before he even spoke.

Watching him carry Megan out onto the balcony, she then felt her smile proudly, and happily, widen

Yes, he'd made one hell of a recovery from his ordeal, especially since the kids had come home, but – well, it was this one simple, poignant means of healing which seemed to bring Carson the most peace.

And yes, she'd share it with him, of course, once Jamie's seemingly endless appetite was finally sated and that tiny mouth released her. For now, though...? Well, it was simply two fathers, having a 'wee bit of a blether...' beneath the stars.

By the time she and a thankfully sated Jamie came to join him, that 'wee blether...' was in full swing – even if, Laura reflected as she continued to discreetly listen in, it _was_ a rather one sided conversation.

"An' ye see your wee Megs now, da'...? Aye, she's growin' so fast now, I can barely keep up wi' her... Jai, too, he's... aye, he's a wee Beckett alright... fractious wee bugger, jus' like mum says _I_ was, an'... well, I'm startin' to understand, da'... startin' to realise what bein' a father means... what it entails... I – I had to kill someone that was threatenin' them, da'... someone who'd hurt my wee Laura too, an'... oh... oh, aye... um, sorry, I've... um... already told ye about that, haven't I...? Sorry, da', it's so bloody early... it's jus' gone five in the mornin' here, da', so I havenae really woke up yet, no' even had my tea, an'... mind you, Jai's gettin' _his_ breakfast alright, the crafty wee bugger... aye, he jus' has to yell for it, an'... now, there's a thought, eh, Megs...? Aye, that's an idea there, right enough, isn't it, lass...?Do ye think if _your_ da' yells like your brother there, _he_ might start gettin' his breakfast in bed too...?"

If truth be told, Laura could think of no nicer way to spoil him, but... well, _he_ didn't have to know that.

"In your dreams, Kilt-Boy..."

Thoroughly enjoying the face he pulled in response, Laura then slid her free arm around his waist – enjoying, even more, the settled calmness, the contentment, the fresh sense of purpose, in those beautiful blue eyes.

He was going to be alright. Her precious Carson, her cherished husband – yes, he _would_ be alright.

The pout, though...? That impossibly irresistible sulky face...? Well, she knew a perfect cure for that – playfully jiggling him until that pricelessly adorable pout melted into yelps of protesting laughter.

Unseen, unnoticed, another early riser on the deck above theirs heard that laughter, and revelled in it – allowing himself a proudly grateful smile as he settled back on his lounger to enjoy the sun-rise.

Not that he'd ever publicly admit it, of course, but John Sheppard believed in wishing on stars too.

Last night, he'd again asked for a treasured friend, a surrogate brother to find peace, the strength and courage to go on. Under the promise of a brilliantly star-lit sky, he'd just seen, and heard, that silent prayer come true.


End file.
